


Domestication

by explicitones



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: (Not) Talking about Feelings, Boys Being Boys, Domestic, M/M, Revelations, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 03:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14844371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/explicitones/pseuds/explicitones
Summary: It doesn’t hit Danny until they’re sniping at each other over crown mouldings, of all things, that this is the kind of argument he and Rachel would’ve had,had, when they were married.Or, where Danny has a revelation about Steve.





	Domestication

**Author's Note:**

> I was re-watching old seasons of Hawaii Five-0 and thought that it'd be so easy for these two to become canon with how much it already is. This is how I imagine it'd happen, anyway.

It starts out with the usual, they’re arguing over what kind of tiles to install in their restaurant ( _Steve’s_ , Steve still insists from time to time, despite their recent deal-with-the-devil, er--Kamekona), when the conversation makes a detour towards whether Steve should redecorate his house. It doesn’t hit Danny until they’re sniping at each other over crown mouldings, of all things, that this is the kind of argument he and Rachel would’ve had, _had_ , when they were married. Domesticated. _Domestication_. They’re a couple of domestic fellas arguing over domestic things.  

It’s always been the running joke. There had been mentions of it before, from Kono and Chin, Tani, Lori--thugs in the courtyard of Halawa facility, _and_ \--passing quips half-carved from truth, but. It was never serious, he thought. Because Steve had Cath ( _had,_ past tense), and Danny, who, admittedly, can’t keep a relationship if his life depended on it, attempted to with Gabby, and even Rachel again, and Melissa-Amber, _right_.

If he’s comparing--which he’s not--they skipped right past the dating stage. They argue and bicker and exhaust each other with the sheer amount of eye rolling; it had never occurred to him how this could naturally progress into, right, well.

“What?” Steve asks, sparing him a glance as he hits the gas a little too hard. Mid-car chase _would_ be the moment Danny had this revelation.

“Nothing,” Danny snaps, eyes trained on the beat up Chevy ahead of them gunning for the red light--Steve is _teasing_ their perp, playing cat-and-mouse. “Are you about to do something crazy?” Danny asks knowing the answer, wonders why he asks at this point.

Steve replies, “This is nothing.” In typical Steve-fashion.

Danny opens his mouth to kickstart another argument, empty words catching in his throat when he realizes the exasperation is only half-earnest these days, mostly routine, with a hint of cheekiness he hadn’t ever thought could exist between himself and anyone but Rachel. 

“Something’s bothering you,” Steve chirps, almost _happy_ , the bastard. He shifts, half turning towards Danny while he keeps his eyes trained on the perp’s car. “Is it the tiles?” he asks, “because I’m willing to compromise here, Danny, but your taste is....” he pauses as if searching for a word that’ll lessen the inevitable insult--as if he cares he might hurt Danny’s feelings.

Danny can’t even remember what they’d been arguing _about_. “How’s Lynn?” Danny asks instead, the question practically tumbling from his mouth before he can curb it.

“Huh?” This time Steve actually turns his head to look at Danny, the inquisitive gaze lending to genuine surprise. “She’s uh,” he muses, mumbling,  “fine, I guess, we haven’t been in touch.”

“Cath back in the picture?” Danny more suggests than asks, and he can’t for the life of him understand why his palms are sweaty--he swipes them over his pants, grips his knees and sits up taller.

Steve is silent for too long, and just when Danny thinks he can’t bear the silence any longer, they rear-end the perp’s car, the impact of the crash activating the Camaro’s airbags. He lets himself be relieved for all of two seconds before he launches straight into a tirade of curses. “Why is it always _my_ car, damnit!”

 

+++

 

After they’ve transferred the perp to HPD for processing, Danny sneaks out past Steve’s office, bated breath and growing headache, prays the question has been forgotten in light of their latest argument. He’s got a car to drop off at the body shop tomorrow and an annoying expense he’ll put off filing and he just cannot right now.

“Danny.” Steve calls, and Danny sighs in exasperation, stops in his tracks. 

“What?” he snaps, yanking at the door to Steve’s office, preferring not to glare through glass. “It’s past five, I’ve got a headache the size of Jupiter and as much as I know you may like me working late hours processing the paperwork _you_ don’t want to do, I am heading home.” He adds some extra emphasis with his hands.  

“Let me give you a ride. “Steve says, standing, which, wasn’t quite the response Danny was expecting.

They’re buckled into Steve’s car 5 minutes later.

“She’s not,” Steve states, breaking the silence eventually. He clears his throat. “In the picture. To answer your question from before.” Danny glances at him out of the corner of his eye, quietly refusing to acknowledge this is a conversation they are resuming. 

Steve continues, “I loved her, _love_ her, but we could never keep each other grounded. We would’ve married each other but. I don’t think we could’ve convinced each other to stay.”  

_What does that even mean_ , Danny thinks, but then his brain chooses that moment to conjure up the chilling memory of Grace’s winter formal; how Steve had burst in gun cocked and aimed, ready to put down anyone who would lay even a finger on a strand of Gracie’s hair; how he’d called for her like she was his. She had run into his arms without a moment’s hesitation. It had taken all of Danny’s self control not to do the same.

“Danny,” Steve says, “Danny we’re here.” Steve’s cut the engine, is gazing expectantly at him. “What’s on your mind,” he breathes, looking half concerned now with his brow furrowed and eyes bright. It’s enough to make Danny’s heart skip a beat, or something cheesy, he thinks. 

“Stay,” he murmurs, quietly willing away the butterflies in his stomach. He finds himself leaning over the center console before he can stop himself, and it barely registers that he’s leaning into Steve’s space.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, soft and genuine and if Danny turned his head just the slightest he’d be staring into Steve’s eager eyes, all curiosity and growing concern.

“What would make you stay?” he asks, words foreign on his tongue. He does turn his head now, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he notes how close Steve is, leaning into Danny’s space too. It feels like the air is charged around them.

Steve is silent as he settles a calloused hand against Danny’s cheek and closes the remaining distance between them to press dry, warm lips to his. He’s pliant and soft and sweet, licking into Danny’s mouth with more tenderness than Danny expected but then again, this is not what he’d been expecting. Admittedly, it’s not unlike kissing Rachel, who had been _the one_ \--twice, and was the only one who Danny had considered committing to, who he _had committed to._ It feels like a sure thing.

“Wait” he mumbles into the kiss, pulling back reluctantly. Steve flinches but it’s so quick Danny’s sure he imagined it. “You realize this is backwards, right? We, uh, we aren’t even…” he trails off, distracted by the fistful of Steve’s shirt in his hand. He loosens his grip, smooths the fabric over Steve’s chest and lingers.

Steve is looking at him with something like amusement, one eyebrow raised. “Aren’t even compatible?” he supplies, “I have half of an organ you gave me, from _your_ body, to keep me alive. Which you never let me hear the end of.”

“Still ungrateful,” Danny half snaps, half laughs. Steve leans in for another kiss.

 

+++

 

“Is this something we talk about?” Danny asks later, with slightly bruised lips. He’s settled on his couch and against Steve, who is warm and solid and not going anywhere. “Because you and I,” he gestures between them, “are not that great at talking feelings. Everything ends in an argument.” 

Steve sputters, as if offended. “We’re great at talking,” he says defensively, “feelings.” It looks like he’s trying hard not to make a face. 

Danny laughs, because _oh really_. “It’s fine,” he offers, “there are better things we could be doing, anyway.”

“Oh?” Steve hums as he presses even closer, tipping the both of them backwards on the couch. Danny nods a little too eagerly, responds, “We’ve spent the last eight years just _talking_ anyway.”

Steve’s smile widens into a grin, eyes twinkling, and he says, “Well, that’s something we can agree on.”

Domestication, Danny thinks, has its benefits.

 


End file.
